A Royal Threshold

Having spent quite enough days inspecting parlor corners and low shelves, I slipped through the open gap beside the front door to see what lies beyond our walls. Right on the stone threshold, a fallen oak leaf lay curved like an upturned ceremonial canoe, cradling a single smooth river pebble. I approached it with an easy stride, offering a courteous nod before stepping up to nudge the pebble into the center of the leaf with the side of my boot. It settled with a satisfying tap, ready to set sail on the morning breeze. Standing under the wide open sky felt remarkably refreshing.